


The Party's Crashing Us // Cheater!Izaya x Reader

by 9amuro (orphan_account)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/9amuro
Summary: Don't trust Izaya.(Tumblr Request!)





	The Party's Crashing Us // Cheater!Izaya x Reader

A fascinating society you dwelled in, a world of incessant clocks that stored everything away into numbers.

His eyes opened, and as soon as he perceived that you were awake, he looked at you. There was no smile, no greeting.

The quiet acknowledgement was all you needed.

You can’t remember why you woke up, but you are awake now and you feel lonely. But he’s here. “I’m here,” he asserts. You ask him to hold you because you are adrift somewhere, dancing in the piroutte, falling apart with the cosmos. He wraps his arms around your waist and you can feel his hair on your neck like vines, and you ask if he has had any dreams. He says he does not remember, but there was a vague feeling of weightlessness before you woke him up. I’m sorry, you say, and he kisses the back of your head.

It’d be nice to stay here, he says, and you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying.

You had made it early, somehow, when you caught sight of a lone form occupying a table situated near a large window overlooking a large window outside. He looked awful lonely, lingering to the sides as the masses conversed around him. You approached, sharing a few words here and there, and left feeling as though you had done the right thing.

The next day, as you made your routinely walk through the same halls, you saw the same man, clad in what looked like the most expensive clothing you’d ever seen, surrounded by people, women attached to both arms like in the movies, engaged in telling some story with weirdly erotic overtones.

“Oh, that’s Izaya Orihara. He’s only pathetic when he wants to be.”

You remember all that vividly. Those were glory days of some sort, really. When the campus was being torn up and Izaya set his sights on you and you were not a spectacle. Today you had walked through the university hall, and you had seen a couple behind a shelf kissing passionately.

How nice, you had thought. If only it could be you and Izaya doing that instead of those people!

Now in bed, he gets up to make some food. You insist you don’t want fried eggs or seasoning - just white rice. “Just white rice is fine.”

He brings it to you in silence.

Yes, you think, it would have been lovely if it had been you and Izaya kissing in the library hall and not Izaya and that person.

“Do you remember when we met for the first time?”

“I think so. There are plenty of times.”

“The one time we met for the first time, where I was in the magazine.” He smiles.

“Ah,” now you remember, “Why were you on page twenty three? You should have been on the cover!” Was that 2 years ago?

He laughs. Then he stops. His collarbone peeking through the unzipped jacket was hypnotizing. Before you read about some scholarship he had won, you thought he was a collarbone model.

“There’s always something to be discovered, you know. What’s on the cover is what doesn’t need to be seen. It’s to keep the blind - blind.”

You smile and grasp his hand, now hovering it just above your mouth. “Blind,” you say, “I’m pretty blind myself.”

“You only need your, ah, middle sight.” He pokes your forehead.

“You, out of time.” He laughs again.

You fall back asleep not knowing that he can feel you crying, or the memories that surface as a result. He wondered if he would always play second fiddle to a tall blond with a smile like the sun.

You feel him reaching for his phone in bed. It is Mikage, you know because he chuckles and leaves just before the crack of dawn.

*

Izaya is good at mahjong. He is good at being good at mahjong, he beat Yakuza members to save his family when he was just 13. He is good at loving mahjong and not being that good at it. He is really good at cheating at mahjong.

There is something that every recognizable period of Izaya’s life have in common with one another, and that’s mahjong.

Not pretty girls. Especially pretty girls he made cry, even though that does happen a lot, actually.

He was almost impressed at himself, going along with you for as long as he did. Izaya always got bored of people, left them behind, but there must have been something.

And there was a reason he was doing this. He just didn’t know what it was.

You are frowning at him, and break the silence. “Did you go and see Mikage?”

“So you know.” His tone is reserved and lacks its usual bite.

“This is infuriating. I am not a fool, nor a social experiment. I want to - hunt you down and gut you like an animal.”

He smiles. This is unsurprising. His teeth are like a wad of bills. “Darling, I do enjoy a good hunt every now and again. The hunter and the hunted aren’t too different from each other, wouldn’t you say? It’s ultimately a thrill for both parties. But unfortunately, there is no need. I guarantee that no ill fate has befallen yoy. You are merely given your time to think, as you would have requested. It was just a bit of fun.” He stops and his words hang in the air with a peculiar sort of unresolved note, like a dissonant chord on a guitar. Unfinished, unsaid. Coupled with the tone of his voice, it leaves a sickly obscene graphic. While it carries much charisma, it feels like a dramatic reading of some irrelevant text.

“I don’t care for your highbrow inessential peripheral bullshit.” you say, turning your head.

But he continues anyway, “You must not be so sensitive, truly you knew the whole time? Else you would be a fool, right?“

"I think that someone like me doesn’t have to put up with this, Izaya.”

“Someone like you? That’s ridiculous - this is the best catalyst I’ve ever used - the best reaction I’ve ever seen! You’re a prodigy, someone like you was meant to be with someone like me - meant to be destroyed. Now -” he sits next to you and positions himself on top of your legs.

“What in the god damn hell is wrong with you - ” you squirm but he grabs your wrist, you are trying your hardest not to show hesitation.

“The expression on your face is the same I’ve seen on people before they’ve jumped off buildings - such beautiful despair. Allow me to fix you, to love you - ”

And you punch him square in the nose, “Everyone’s right about you, good for nothing,” and make a run for the door. To your surprise, he does not pursue you - just sits there with some emotion in his eyes and a hand on his nose.

*

Izaya Orihara has not interacted with a person in a week. Except for Namie, but she didn’t count.

And his nose hurt.

This sucked.

This was a bad decision.

Everytime he tried to justify this growing sense of anguish in his chest by saying he needed someone to like, rule by his side or some shit, Namie called him an edgy tryhard. She wasn’t wrong.

You had never done anything wrong in your life, you lived in a way to avoid philosophy and contemplation and simply, as you put it “live in a society.” At first he had believed it would be fun to break you, you were a human, ordinary, weak, he was bored of you and moved on, but after some time to sit on it - time he had expected he would spend being the most elated man om earth - he just felt like an asshole. He hated seeing you cry, you may as well have just run a sword right through him.

What was the real point of that? Of any of that?

It wasn’t bad, or beneath him to live with another person at his side. In the first week he realized that he was horribly touch starved, the second he realized that he liked the way you made curry, and it just kept going. Relevant or not, he was losing something, losing by not learning more about himself and finding himself in the company of another. His infidelity lead to wasted potential. And he was learning about you, too - did that matter?

And then he snapped.

He adorned his coat, ensured that Shizuo would be stuck in interstate traffic for the better part of the day, and went off to find you.

And find you he did, in the passenger seat of Shizuo’s car, fast asleep.

He didn’t even know you were friends.

What else didn’t he know about you? Did you like Coke over Pepsi? Did you use conditioner before shampoo? How much paper did you keep in the printer?

Whatever. He’d find out soon, quick text to the head of the transportation department (who was on the verge of bankruptcy) to turn the traffic lights back to normal.

Skip, swerve, honk - “Get out of traffic, druggie!” he had made it. It was more than bliss seeing you after so long.

Shizuo nearly choked, “Izaya?”

“Afternoon, Shizu! But I’m not here to see you.” He climbed into the backseat of the car.“

You woke up, kind of like last time. You figured you’d see him again, just not like this.

"Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can! I’ve come to a staggering revelation and I’ve changed almost completely as a person, a whole 360!”

“Thank God.”

“Yes! I don’t like social experiments anymore, just wholesome relationships! I’ve decided to start wearing summer-themed clothes, I am going to commit arson - ”

“That’s great. Please go away.”

Shizuo was in absolutely no mood for this, but you raised your hand and shook your head at him.

Izaya intook a deep breath, “But I miss you! I want to come back to our shared one bedroom two bathroom apartment and start a nice family! I’m serious!”

You sighed, “I think it’s okay to take things too seriously, but not to take taking things too seriously since even genuine feelings are an extremely immersive game, played instead of the alternative path of eliminating all bias from my brain and becoming an empty husk.”

“And you’re implying that’s what will happen if you stay with me - untrue!”

You liked this feeling, knowing guilt was engulfing Izaya’s visage.

You sit in mutual contemplative silence for a while before Shizuo flings him into oncoming traffic.

*

“I’m weawwy wegwetting cheating on wuu! I wuv you!” He had flowers.

“Please get out of my house.”

He also had a guitar, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore - ”

“This is literally worse than being cheated on. You’re killing me, Izaya.”

Apparently you could get him to go quiet by ignoring him.

What was it that made him do that?

Two years. Was it pleasure? Was it to mess with your mind? Or did he truly think he was a god?

“I’d think of oxytocin as dying in a sense, destabilizing into a preset process. The reason I think it’s unnecessary to think like that, though, is that it makes so little sense to me that I’m apparently conscious that I can’t… Make peace with it.”

“Are you saying you’re depressed?”

“Maybe. It’s kind of hard, when you put things in perspective. I am like everyone else, to you. A human, pathetic a toy with emotions. You never asked me how I was doing, you’re detached from reality. If you’ve seen me lately, you’d laugh.”

To him you didn’t look sad, just wistful.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he sounds serious, but then he smiles, “help me figure it out?”

“Too much work. I don’t care. Go home.”

“But I’m trying to figure it out! I regret my actions! Come back to me!”

“I have other things to do with my time. If I do, you’ll just call me a submissive pawn or some shit. This is a lose-lose situation. Go home.”

He’d be back, you knew. But for now, at least you didn’t have to deal with his atrocious serenading.


End file.
